You Are My Son
by disneyanimationfan
Summary: Stan has a Day of the Dead-themed dream that takes him to the Land of the Dead...and coming to terms with his late estranged father, Filbrick.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

" _ **You really wanna stick your neck out for goofus over here? Then prove it, smart guy!" – Filbrick Pines**_

Tuesday, November 1, 2016. 10:45 PM. Tijuana, Mexico.

In a medium-sized hotel near the center of the city, the Stan Twins are winding down after having driven several hours from the last town through the dusty, baking desert landscape. The two adventurers had spent a little more than the past two months circling central Mexico from Monterrey to Mexico City to Puerto Vallarta, hunting down (or running from) and cataloging mythical Aztec creatures. The anomaly energy was strong, and Stan and Ford had a blast; but the supernatural core is constantly on the move, and is no longer in Mexico, but now several thousand miles away in the south Pacific.

To keep up with the shifting anomalies, the twins plan to embark on their third Stan-O-War boat (the previous one having been damaged by a sea monster off the coast of Greenland) down to the Polynesian islands. They had hired a contractor in San Diego to construct their new yacht, and it is more or less completed. The Stan Twins are going to rest for a night in Tijuana before crossing the border back into the United States, where in turn they will boot up the Stan-O-War III and depart out the San Diego Harbor.

Ford is at the desk, intently writing in his journal, with many other notebooks and papers scattered around him. So much has been encountered since the explorations began in late 2012; and it's just like Ford to constantly return to old notes to refresh his memory on the countless new and familiar monsters or happenings he has managed to catch.

The bathroom door opened, and Stan, now wearing nothing but his signature in-house underwear, walked out. He did a large stretch, bigger than one he could have ever done.

"Whew, just four years ago and I would have experienced a crack in my back. Now it no longer happens!" Stan exclaimed.

"Yep, we did do quite the hiking and running. It most certainly has put you in better shape," Ford commented without looking up from his studying.

"Heh-heh, okay, I'll admit, I gained a good weight in the years before we departed," Stan shrugged as he made his way to his bed. He slipped under the covers and removed his glasses, placing them on the lamp counter next to him.

"Hitting the hay already?" Ford asked.

"Obviously. It's been a long day, and I sure could use some Zs," Stan responded. "You should head to bed soon yourself. Take a break from your nerd stuff."

"Nah, I'll be good. I need to do some reorganizing."

"You've already 'reorganized' that pile many times already!"

"Well, doesn't hurt to _maintain_ that organization. You go to sleep. I would like some quiet now, so I can focus more."

"Classic Poindexter," Stan mumbled smiling. He flicked off the bedside lamp and flopped down on his pillow. He turned over, and both because of his age and because of the tiring journey he and his brother had taken, fell asleep in less than a minute.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

" _ **It just sometimes feels like Pa hates me." – Stan Pines**_

Stanley found himself in the middle of a vast field of orange marigold petals. He shuffled through the petals, trying to figure out where he is.

The former conman bend down and scooped up with both his hands a pile of the marigold petals. He released them into the air, watching them swirl away and settling back in the area around him. The general environment seemed very mysterious, yet still gives off a tinge of calm and cheerfulness.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Stan called out. The only response was his echo.

Stan started walking around. He squinted his eyes as he scanned the marigold landscape. The semi-hazy atmosphere made it a little hard to see far away. The fez-wearing man of mystery continued wandering through the meadow made of petals, occasionally calling out for anyone. Stan can see no one, and no one replied to his calls.

Then, after a long while, a voice that sounded familiar finally responded to Stan.

"Stan? Stan!"

"Huh?" Stan looked around. "Who's that? How do you know me?"

"Stan! It's me! Over here!"

"Over where?" Stan asked. He knows he has heard that voice somewhere before, but he just can't put his finger on who it may belong to. Whoever it is though, it must be someone he has met at some point.

After more scanning, Stan finally caught sight of a person's silhouette. The silhouette waved over at him.

"Who are you, exactly?" Stan continued to ask as he approached the silhouette. As he got closer, the haze cleared up, and finally became able to make out…a skeleton.

"GAAHHHH!" Stan yelled out in fright. He jumped several steps back.

"Whoa! Hey! No need to be afraid! It's me, Sherman!"

"What?!" Stan pulled out his brass knuckles and got into a defensive position.

"Stanford, it's me, Shermie!"

"Shermie?

"Yes! Look closely at me!"

Stan looked closer at the skeleton in a suit, glasses, and a mustache. He examined the facial features of the skull…and can actually envision his eldest brother's face on top of the bone.

"S-Sherman? Is it really you?"

"Yes!" Shermie exclaimed. "Your brother!"

"What happened to you? Where are your skin and muscles? Why are you…a skeleton? What the heck is going on here?!"

"Hey, it's okay…I can explain."

Stan let out a deep breath. He straightened himself up, and slipped his brass knuckles back into his pockets.

"Well, Stan, it's pretty obvious that I _am_ a skeleton…but that's simply because I'm dead! Everyone you will meet in this realm has passed away."

"Wait…so am I dead?" Stan started panicking.

"No, no, you aren't dead. Otherwise you'd be a skeleton, like me. You're in the Land of the Dead…and I honestly don't know how you ended up here, but I know for sure that you are still alive. Those who stumble into this realm but still have skin and flesh usually make it out alive."

"Well that's…somewhat reassuring. I'm still very confused though."

"I'm afraid I know only as much as you as to how or why you are here. But now that some of your initial shock has worn off…I think now may be a good time to do a proper, well, reunification? I mean, you've just ran into your brother who you haven't seen in 16 years, yeah?"

Shermie wrapped his skeletal arms around Stan and embraced him in a big hug. Stan, however, still feels off-put.

"Yeah, I'm glad to see you again Shermie, but maybe spare the affection," Stan said as he gently pushed his older brother away.

"Sorry. I keep forgetting you aren't really the hugging type," Shermie said slightly embarrassed.

"Nah, it's okay. If I know my older brother well, he likes greeting people with warm hugs," Stan smirked. "Though in this case, you feel pretty much like a bunch of cold pebbles."`

"Well, skeletons don't have body temperature, heh-heh," Shermie laughed a little. "Anyways, still nice to see you again, Stanford."

"Actually…I'm Stanley," Stan admitted suddenly and easier than he would have imagined. "You know…the one who supposedly died in a car crash? Yeah, I actually faked that, and took Stanford's identity instead. So basically…you died thinking I was Stanford and Stanley was already dead. But I'm Stanley, and I never got killed in a car crash."

Shermie's glasses dropped down slightly at the revelation. He quickly re-adjusted them back to their original position, despite having no nose or ears to support them.

"Huh. So no wonder I wasn't able to find Stanley, or _you_ , actually…anywhere here. Because you were still alive all along."

"Yeah. It's pretty complicated. A lot of things has happened since your passing…and I guess I have no choice now but to clean up the lies I left you with." Stan let out a sigh.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I'm actually more intrigued than angry that you have been pulling my leg. Tell me all about it. Ah! Actually, let's walk and talk. Since you're here, I _must_ show you around."

Shermie gestured Stan to follow him. Stan simply shrugged and tagged behind his brother through the haze. As they made their way, Stan explained everything, even the supernatural bits – and Shermie listened intently and made no comment at the outlandish parts.

Stan mainly focused on getting the truth out to Shermie. At the same time, though, he is also trying to make out the greater details in the haze in the direction he and Shermie are heading. As the two got closer, Stan could recognize some familiar buildings…buildings that belonged to his old hometown of Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey.

"Wow. That is one heck of a tale," Shermie puffed as Stan wrapped up his story. "Kind of out there in some places…but the most important part is that you and Ford have made up, and are now doing things together again, just like old times."

"Yeah. We went a pretty long way. But that's all in the past now," Stan shrugged.

The duo entered the town, crossing a sandy beach first – apparently the marigold field is in the place of the Atlantic Ocean. Stan finally can see more people – or skeletons, really. The streets are lit up in the slight haze, and numerous but beautiful decorations related to Dia de los Muertos lined the sidewalk and windows. Skull and marigold paper cut-outs are pasted on many of the doors. Despite Stan being clearly different from all of them, none of the deceased made a second glance at him, as if he isn't the first living soul to accidentally stumble into the Land of the Dead.

"Funny, I don't remember Glass Shard Beach ever having a mood like this. This is the most colorful I have ever seen the town!" Stan commented.

"Yeah, I'll admit the living counterpart of the old Jersey resort was a little dull. But here, we make it a habit to add more spice in everyone's eyes! Did I say that right?"

It wasn't long before Stan found himself on the road he is most familiar with – the road where he and his family had lived before he destroyed Ford's science project and got disowned as a result. And as expected, Stan could see the Pines Pawns shop just a few buildings down.

"Hey, our old family store is still here!" Stan pointed out the obvious. "When me and Ford stopped by the actual town not too long ago – and actually, that was our first visit since both of us has left – many things have changed, and now a pizza place occupies what used to be our living room."

"Yeah, I remember you telling me that in your story," Shermie replied. "That may be the case in the living world, but here, the old pawns shop is still standing and dusting."

"Well, anyways…is Ma inside? I don't know if she ever heard what happened to me after I, well, left…and I don't know if she would want to see me after all that has happened…"

"Actually, Ma isn't home right now," Shermie explained. "And besides, there is someone else that I would want you to meet instead."

"Who?" Stan asked uneasily. He felt a lump forming in his throat; he knows perfectly well who Shermie is referring to. And he is the last person Stan even wants to see, whether in the land of the living or the Land of the Dead.

"You'll know when you meet him," Shermie said as he opened the shop door, the bell ringing as he did so.

"Or, you know, maybe we could continue exploring other parts of the town," Stan suggested. "Besides, it's pretty clear it's not the same as in the living world." He started inching away.

"Stan," Shermie's bony hand grabbed Stan's shoulder, which oddly enough produced a shiver down Stan's back. "This is for the best. You haven't seen him in forty-plus years. And you two left on bad terms. It's about time some amends are made."

"Well, what if I don't want to?" Stan retorted, a little more harshly than he intended. Stan immediately regretted his tone; he could see the hurt in Shermie's eyes, perhaps the only organic body part that still remained in his skeletal frame.

"Stanley," Shermie spoke out Stan's real first name for the first time. "I know this is hard, but trust me, this needs to be done." Shermie shut the shop door and turned to face his younger brother.

"Shermie, I really appreciate your efforts for us to reconcile…but I honestly don't think it's worth it. And yes, I'm being honest this time," Stan stood by his ground.

"Stan, if you and Ford were able to make up, then you can certainly do the same thing with another close relative. It must have been hard for you two initially, right? For several weeks after you rescued Ford from some sci-fi contraption or whatever, you two lived together under the same roof, but continued to shun each other. But things happened, and you two manage to reconnect."

"Yeah, well the lives of our great-niece and nephew – your _grandchildren_ – were at stake!" Stan argued. "And you don't truly know how much someone means to you until you lose that person. That's what Ford went through…I paid his price, and it hurt him deeply. Not to mention, with _this_ particular butt-face he _threw me out of the darn house_! He had every opportunity to see if I meant anything to him – because he literally sentenced me to death on the streets! And clearly the answer is that, no, I didn't mean anything to him."

"You don't know that for sure, Stan."

"Well _you_ wouldn't either. You were already grown up and having your own life when me and Ford were still kids. Have you seen the way that stern-faced dirt-bag treated me? I may have been a troublemaker, but sometimes he gives me a punishment or reprimand me out of the blue even when I haven't even done anything yet!" Stan took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check. "And on top of that, I don't suppose you and him have talked about me, no?"

"No, not really," Shermie admitted.

"Yeah, he probably also threatened you with the same fate if you even mention my name," Stan grumbled. "In fact, you just bringing me back to him…I don't suppose it's going to end well for _you_ either."

"I'm willing to take the risk," Shermie insisted. "Also, I think I could just walk out of the house right after you two have the inevitable awkward meet-up."

"Right, there's that, the awkwardness," Stan rolled his eyes. "And way to ditch me, too."

"Well, you two can't really make up if I'm there…that will just make things more awkward. Come on, Stan. Our family has been broken for too many years. And I understand that you and Ford reunited under different circumstances, what with a 'doomsday situation' going on or something…but in the end, I really do believe it's going to be no different than what will happen here."

Stan let out a sigh. He once again looked into Shermie's eyeballs – which are somehow propped in his eye sockets in a non-creepy way – and can see his insistence and desperation.

 _Please, Grunkle Stan?_ Stan could hear Mabel's voice in his head. Yeah, Mabel most certainly inherited her "puppy eyes" from Shermie.

"All right," Stan sighed. "And I won't be expecting a catch this time."

Shermie just smiled and nodded. He opened the shop door again, and led Stan inside.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

" _ **No matter what I do, I'm not a genius like you. I'm a dumb idiot who screws everything up. Do you know what it's like being the**_ **stupid twin?** _ **I wish just once Pa would look at me the way he looks at you…**_ **like** _ **he actually**_ **likes** _ **me." – Stan Pines**_

Shermie and Stan entered the pawn shop. The two passed by displays of various trinkets priced at outrageous amounts and "no refund" signs as they made their way to the living quarter. Everything felt and looked exactly the same as Stan remembered it the last time he was in the pawn shop, in the land of the living at least.

"Picking flowers up in the middle of the ocean again?" a gruff voice came out. "Sherman, how many times do I need to tell you that this house doesn't need any of those marigolds that you keep bringing back?"

"Well, I was out in the marigold sea…but I don't have any petals with me this time," Shermie answered back.

Shermie and Stan entered the living room. A skeleton with a square-shaped skull with brown hair at the back and wearing a fedora is sitting on the couch, watching the TV.

The skeleton picked up the remote and turned off the contraption. He let out a sigh, got up, and turned around.

"Then you could have at least spared yourself going out…," the skeleton said, but abruptly stopped as soon as he laid eyes on Stanley.

Stan examined the skeleton. The hat, the hair, the dark glasses, the mustache, the suit and tie…yep, it's Filbrick Pines alright. His father.

Stan let out a deep breath, and tried to keep a serious disposition on his face. "Hey, Pa…," Stan forced himself to say.

Filbrick and Stan just stood where they are, dumbfounded and at a loss for words. Shermie let out a small puff.

"Well, I think I'm going to head on out again. Maybe watch over the shop in case some customers come in?" Shermie inched his way out of the living room. However, instead of staying in the shop as he said, he opened the front door and rushed out. It's just the old man and his youngest son now.

"Stanley Pines," Filbrick said in a near-condescending tone. Oddly enough, Filbrick was able to recognize Stan right there on the spot, whereas Shermie was unable. Though, to be fair, Shermie does tend to be quite absent-minded…to the point he sometimes can't even remember which of his twin brothers has six fingers. And besides, if Stanley had really died, then he would have been in the Land of the Dead as a skeleton. But that's not the case, and Filbrick knows a true conman when he sees one.

"So, here we are…," Stan uttered. He could feel the tension building between him and his dad.

Filbrick raised his skinless hand. "No, just no," he spat. "How, why, I don't care. All I see is a trash bag that I could have sworn I took out ages ago."

Stan clenched his still-fleshed fists. However, he tried his best to keep himself under control.

"Pa, I am no trash bag," Stan responded calmly. "I am Stan Pines, your son."

" _My_ son? Who said that you were my son?" Filbrick raised his voice. "Why on earth would I call a disgrace and a destructor my son?"

"A disgrace and a destructor, well said," Stan said sarcastically.

"You still have that teenage tone of yours. And here you are, a cranky, bitter old man who probably would have learned a manner or two out in the real world."

"Oh, I've been out in the real world, all right. You have no idea what kinds of things I had to go through! Trust me, I've learned plenty of manners."

"A likely story. I thought you'd be dead."

"Well, I survived, and if I did die, I'd be a bunch of rusting bones like you!" Stan retorted.

Filbrick briefly clenched his teeth. He then let out a deep huff and turned his back towards Stan.

"Just beat it, will you?" Filbrick grumbled. "The last thing I need is for you to break something valuable or commit a misdemeanor that will force me to pay out of my pockets!"

That did it. "Are you still mad over how I busted Ford's science project and prevented _you_ from earning a bucket-load of cash?!" Stan blurted.

Filbrick turned back to face his youngest son. "So you're finally going to admit you did it, aren't you? For once a grain of honesty from an untrustworthy shyster."

"It. Was. An. ACCIDENT!" Stan let out years of pent-up anger against his father, against his father's intentional misunderstanding against the petty science project, against how his father had raised him as a whole.

"It was an accident!" Stan repeated loudly. "I didn't mean to wreck Ford's science project! I was just there, I slammed the table, and it somehow stopped working! Yeah, fine, call me a klutz, but do you really think I actually used my 'thieving' hands to deliberately rip apart that dumb spinning gizmo?! Accidents, happen, Pa…yes, I'll admit that I was the cause of Ford getting rejected by his fancy-pants school. But that's all in the past now! Ford and I have long gotten over that mess and decided to let bygones be bygones…and I figured it's 'bout time you do the same. Also…has it ever occurred to you to even _listen_ to me for once? To _think_ about what you have been inflicting on me? You've always just passed me off as a liar, a robber, a cheater...someone who doesn't deserve respect or the slightest bit of love or acknowledgement of his efforts for _anything_. Why, Pa, I must ask you…what is with your harsh treatment of me? Why did you constantly brutalize and mistreat me? Because I was the dumb twin? Because I'm not like Ford, but an idiot who shouldn't be taken seriously? _Do you hate me as a result? Do you actually wished that I was dead, when you were still alive? What kind of a father do you even think you are, you arrogant old stink-bag?!"_

Stan was panting by the time he finished. Finally, after all these years, Stan has let his father hear his frustration.

Filbrick did not respond. He stood there, his arms folded and his shaded glasses making him look more apathetic than he actually is at the moment.

"So…what's the answer, old man? Huh? Huh?" Stan resumed. "You never really had a good reason for why I didn't deserve the love and attention that Ford and Shermie received, did you? I just happened to be the 'surprise' twin…who so happened to have been born after Ford, right at the moment when you could have easily said that you are done having any more kids. I was unwanted…you never asked for me. You never expected twins. So when I came along, your jaw dropped, and to this day you still haven't closed it. Is that why you thought I was a nobody? Is that why you heartlessly threw me out into the streets before I was even ready? You even had a bag packed for me, darn it! Were you just _waiting_ for me to screw up so you could finally have a good reason to get rid of me once and for all? Tell me!"

Filbrick still did not make any sound or movement. The continued silence only made the younger conman more frustrated. Stan started thinking about ripping off one of his father's arms and slapping his skull. Though come to think of it, do skeletons feel pain?

"Well…?" Stan continued prodding. "Did I finally blow your logic flow? Guess I'm not as dumb as you think, then…"

"Enough," Filbrick raised his hand again. He let out a deep sigh and turned around. He held his hands behind his back.

"Stanley, no one has ever stood up to me like that before. No one has," Filbrick spoke, not willing to look his son in the eye. "Normally I'd ground you for a month for that kind of attitude…but you're a grown man now, I can't do anything of the kind. And I can't help but just face those words you threw at me."

"Words? Whoa, whoa, they are not just, 'words.' In case you don't know, they are my _feelings_. You heard right: I have feelings. Years of built-up anger and hatred over your not-so-fatherly approach to me. And yes, you do need to face them. And don't just give a simple, 'because you deserve it!' No! I've heard that too many times. Why did I deserve it?"

"You didn't," Filbrick simply answered.

Stan is stumped. "What did you say?"

"You never did deserve the way that I have treated you," Filbrick repeated again.

"Okay…then why did you treated me the way you did anyways?"

"I honestly don't know anymore. Listening to what you have said…for the first time I can't rely on my own arrogance anymore…and I'll admit, you really did sound smart. Yes, I've always viewed you as dumb and no more than that…but your tone just then, your rant, your emotions…I must say, I'm _impressed_."

"What? Impressed?"

Filbrick sighed and turned back around. "Stanley, it took me years after I threw you out for me to realize that everything that I have done, wouldn't have made things better. No one really questioned my decision. Not Ford, not Sherman, not even your mother…and this might surprise you, but right from the moment I slammed the door in your face, I questioned myself. Yes, I've been quite hard on you…I've insulted you, belittled you, shamed you in front of everyone else, called you out on things you haven't even done…but those can't possibly be compared to disowning you completely. You were only a teenager…and besides, it wasn't like Ford was going to get this family any more money even if he had gotten into West Coast Tech. He probably would have still ended up in the same place – cooped up in some cabin in the woods of the Pacific Northwest, studying tall tales no one believed in. That's what he was truly interested in – not astronomy, not engineering, not physics or math, not medicine or pharmaceuticals – the stuff that really gives you dough. And it's not like he would have shared his income anyways, considering he shut himself out from me and your mother when he went off with his research grant."

"So what was all that fuss about then?"

"It was no more than that. A fuss," Filbrick shrugged. "Stanley, I'll admit that I never really did view you as my son. But I let my pride prevent me from seeing the harm that I have been doing. I'm a very frank person, and lying is something I just utterly despise…but if I'm going to call you out for stealing, cheating, or pulling pranks on the teachers at school, then I might as well call myself out for constantly drop-kicking you. And it wasn't until after I made you leave that I realized that you are actually worth something. That you are my son after all."

 _Wow_. Stan thought to himself. _Shermie was right all along. How was I supposed to know that Pa actually didn't reflect on what I truly meant to him until after I was gone? Well, now I do know_.

Filbrick reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold chain. However, it isn't just any gold chain, as Stan could immediately recognize it.

"Not too long after I, well, disowned you, I came across this," Filbrick held out the gold chain. On it says "#1 DAD." It's the gift that Stan made for him when he and Ford were kids. He stole the original gold chain from the pawn shop, and he even tried covering his act by going off with Ford to look for a scapegoat, the Jersey Devil.

"I found it as I was cleaning out some stuff. It was really nice, this little present of yours," Filbrick finally broke a small smile. "But by that point, it was too late. And stubborn as I was, I still largely refused to believe that what I had done was wrong. But at least coming across this once more set me on the right path, even if it did take me until my death."

Filbrick placed the golden necklace into Stan's palm. "I want you to have it. You made this for me to show that you still wanted my love even after all that I did to you. Well, now I'm returning it, as a sign to show my hope that you will still forgive me."

Stan felt touched and speechless. This really can't be happening. Stan only knew Filbrick as a stern, tough, no-nonsense man. It's all so shocking – in a pleasant sort of way – that the cold, unloving father Stan thought was Filbrick could change in just the course of a few minutes. And all that was needed was a quick rant on his honest feelings. Yes, honest; Stan did lie a lot to his dad.

"Pa," Stan said. "I forgive you."

"You are my son, Stanley. You are my son," Filbrick's smile only grew wider. And Stan could tell that it is a genuine smile, because Filbrick hardly ever smiles, let alone because he is impressed.

That was the last thing Stan remembered before a bright flash swamped his field of vision.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

" _ **Pa was angry when Stan confessed, but I think a small part of him appreciated the honesty. I guess I'll never know." – Ford Pines**_

Wednesday, November 2, 2016. 7:20 AM. Tijuana, Mexico.

"Well, what do you know, the sun has already long risen!" Ford exclaimed as he pulled open the curtains.

"Huh? What?" Stan shot up in his bed, woken by the sudden bright light.

"Heh, I'm talking to myself again," Ford said. "A habit I developed in the years of solitude back when I was studying the mysteries of Gravity Falls on my own. Anyways, slept well?"

"Were you up all night?" Stan rubbed his eyes. He reached for his glasses and put them on.

"Not exactly. I went to bed around 1 AM, and got up again at 4 or 5. Can't waste much time sleeping around with so much of my catalogs needing organizing."

Stan let out a small mumble as he scratched his back.

"I just had the weirdest dream," Stan commented.

"Really? Let me guess; was it related to the Day of the Dead?"

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"I've heard reports of people in Mexico having Day of the Dead-themed dreams the night of the actual Day of the Dead. Most of them passed their dreams off as coincidences. Though I beg to differ."

"Why is that?"

"Well, in the past two months, I have found enough clues to conclude that a parallel realm inhabited solely by the dead exists right here in Mexico. And I have no doubt this is where the deceased spirits that come to their living relatives on the Day of the Dead reside. I was just studying this, actually, in the past several hours, reviewing what I found – stories, physical evidence – and making connections. In fact, now that I think of it, I can actually recall one or two tales of someone actually stumbling into the realm, and coming back out alive. I'll have to check my books again. I'm sure I reviewed them as I was doing my study on the entire subject."

"Must make for an interesting tale. I heard some film studio – forgot its name – not too far away from where Dipper and Mabel live is making a movie centered right on someone actually stepping into the Land of the Dead. I think it's coming out next year or something."

"Anyways, I think your dream may have been the result of leaking energy from the Land of the Dead. It tends to happen around the evening of November 1 – Dia de los Muertos. The leaking energy could in turn have been prompted by the large number of souls entering the living world to see their relatives. And I believe that these souls have the power to enter the mindscape of their living relatives – hence why some end up having dreams involving them, complete as skeletons and often involving marigolds."

Stan sat up straighter in his bed. He stroked his chin – a habit he picked up from Ford. "Huh. I don't suppose…"

"Suppose what?" Ford asked. "Who is the relative you encountered, by the way?"

"Well, actually…I had a dream where I ran into Shermie, our older brother. And he led me to…Pa."

"Oh dear. I wonder how that has turned out," Ford's face suddenly became more serious.

"It was quite intense at first. But in a rather sudden twist…Pa apologized for what he had done to me. For his harsh treatment of me growing up…that him treating me as dirt, was a mistake…he admitted to regretting throwing me out of the house. He even called me his _son_!"

Ford's eyes widened. "Whoa. That is…quite unlike Pa. I can't ever recall a time where he was sorry for what he did."

"Me neither. He's an arrogant fellow; the last thing he wants to hear is other people pointing out his flaws. And that's why, no, I don't believe his spirit actually came into my mind," Stan passed off. "Knowing that old codger growing up, I doubt he would ever be sorry. He seemed pretty proud of how he raised me, if you ask me."

"Well, you never know," Ford suggested.

"Funny, that's the same thing Shermie said to me in my dream. Also not to mention, I was taken back to _Glass Shard Beach_. We were literally there just several months ago. Maybe it was more so the visit than spirits actually entering my head that caused my dream."

"Well, I've heard only minimal details on how the Land of the Dead looks like, but one thing I have found in common among the dream stories I came across is that the setting is always the dreamer's hometown. And it usually involves making amends for problems that the living and deceased relatives have yet to solve before the deceased, well, died. The deceased normally can't directly interact with the living, so they use the mindscape instead. Unless of course a living being _entered_ the realm, but that's a different story."

"I still don't think Pa really entered my mind," Stan remained unconvinced. "Now I know I've seen so much these past few years – but if there is one thing that I know for _sure_ isn't real, it's Pa regretting what he has done to me. I bet that dummy had a huge smile on his face when he found out about my 'death' in my fake accident. Also, I highly doubt Pa would choose to live in the Land of the Dead here in Mexico. And it seems to me that only spirits who actually live there have the ability to enter their relatives' minds."

"Well, I've encountered all sorts of ghosts in Gravity Falls, and together, we met many more in the various places we have been. All of them have been living at some point. We've hunted many of the usual these past couple months in Mexico, but _all_ of the dead here in general also seem to have a unique ability we didn't find elsewhere: the ability to enter their relatives' minds and present themselves in the form of skeletons, and only on the Day of the Dead. But there is still so much to deceased souls in general that we just don't know about. Maybe Pa doesn't live in the Mexican Land of the Dead, but because of the existing energy here, he found a way to enter your mindscape in the same way the others do. Or maybe all deceased souls have a way to enter the mindscape. I'll have to look deeper into that."

"What about the Dream Hipster? Category 9 ghost, as I recalled?"

"Yeesh," Ford shuttered. "I do not want to relive his taunts. Though yes, the particular one I encountered would qualify as one who could enter minds. I don't know who he was when he was alive, or how he managed to enter my dreams – assuming dead souls in general don't enter minds."

"All good to know, but I stand by my ground that Pa most certainly did not communicate with me in the dream I just had. To him, I'm as dead as he is. Can't think of anything else that may suggest otherwise," Stan got out of his bed and did a few stretches.

"Again, the supernatural realm is big and powerful. The spirits of the dead are just one powerful group whose ways have many mysteries – too many to investigate in our living lifetime."

"I guess we'll never know everything, at least as long as we are still living. And besides, I think this is one 'mystery' that I'm willing to leave unsolved for now," Stan shrugged as he went to the closet and took out his clothes. "Now come on, let's go have breakfast. I'm starving."

 _ **All quotes are from the story "The Pines Boys in: The Jersey Devil's in the Details", part of the**_ **Gravity Falls: Lost Legends** _ **graphic novel.**_

 _ **Gravity Falls was created by Alex Hirsch and produced by Disney Television Animation. All characters and related media belong to Disney.**_


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